Category Archives: Horrifying everyday stuff

Confession: Sometimes I read this blog when I am bored. (And you can’t judge me for that – look! You’re doing it right now!) And sometimes, more like most of the time these days, I am nothing short of horrified. However, being the complete and utter saint that I so clearly am, I have decided to turn my chagrin into a helpful guide for the easily tempted. Read it, and avoid a similar fate.

The Rules for BloggingAnonymously:

1. Ask yourself a simple question: Do I want this blog to be anonymous? Yes? OK. Pick an assumed name, create an e-mail account specifically for your blog, and continue.

2. Take into account which details of your writing could potentially blow your cover. Names of people, places, and events should probably be avoided. Choose an alternate name, or give people titles, such as “The BFF” or “That guy I accidentally stabbed to death that one time.”

3. Network through blogging communities using your assumed name only. Under no circumstances post an actual picture of yourself to these accounts.

4. Tell no one. If you’re going to keep this blog from getting back to you, it would probably be a good idea not to give the link out to any of your friends, co-workers, or family members. Remember that, as people, we are all essentially turncoats and will pass along the link to anyone who can give us a good enough reason to do so (i.e. anyone who even remotely suggests that they want to read it.)

5. Tread lightly and leave your big stick at home. When we are frustrated with people, we tend to exaggerate. And give details. And specific quotes. And lots of other things that leave very little to the imagination. We are trying to prove to the world that we are right in being upset, and we are usually (annoyingly, foolishly) relentless in our efforts to do so. Such behavior, in the blogging world, means that you are only moments away from being caught. Either that, or you have just recently realized that you were caught a long time ago, and are acting out in attempt to ease your own terrible mortification. (Or was that just me…?)

6. Don’t blog about people you are working with. Ever. JUST DON’T DO IT! Unless, of course, you are saying something nice. But let’s not forget that there is such a thing as too nice. And you should probably leave your sordid fantasies about your hot coworker out of it entirely. Even if he is asking for it. Even if you are asking for it. Even if – OH JUST SHUT UP ABOUT IT ALREADY!

*I swear to God, I am actually over this. But how else will I get the point across if not through over-dramatization of events long since past?*

And now we come to the second part of the Rules: What to do if you are caught.

1. First, don’t get caught.

2. When you do get caught, try to react appropriately. Laugh it off or apologize, but never confuse the two. Horrible Boss just discover the post in which you called him a wart-infested cretin capable of nothing and over-assuming in everything? Put on your humiliated face and apologize profusely. If he reads your post aloud, try not to laugh, even if you are hilarious. Hot Coworker confesses that he’s read about your incredibly distracting need to corner him in the storage room and snog his brains out (or worse)? Laugh. Apologize in a non-serious manner if you feel it’s necessary. Or, simply take him in the storage room and demonstrate what you were talking about. Either way, keep calm, don’t get angry that you’ve been discovered, and for the love of all that is holy, don’t write a post in which you tell everyone how much of a victim you are in this situation. You’re not. In fact, this is pretty much all your fault. And that’s what stings.

3. Once you’ve sufficiently calmed down, get in your car and drive to the nearest Barnes and Noble. Walk in and buy a journal. You are now done with blogging.

**

In fact, maybe you should just go out and get a journal right now! I know we’re all dying to be recognized and desperate for connection and blah, blah, blah… but since when did journaling become so out of fashion? Even if your little sister reads it and shows it to your parents and they freak the fuck out, at least no one at work will have ever heard of it. Right? Or hey, maybe you are so self-sufficient that you’ve achieved the rare privilege of living on your own. Even better! The point is, it is much better to have one book under the bed than a hundred posts swirling through cyber-space. Speaking of which, all those posts I now realize I should never have published in the first place? Deleted. Well, most of them anyway…

Can I just say? OkCupid is seriously disturbing. And not just because of all the weirdos and freaks, Oh no! (And yes, I do realize that I would technically be one of the weirdos I am referring to.) But because for me, someone who has never been in a relationship before and is more than a little gun-shy with the whole getting-to-know-someone-to-see-if-they-are-a-potential-mate-type-person fiasco, deciding what I want, on the spot, and then putting it out there for all the world to see is a little… well… impossible.

The worst part of the whole scenario is the “questions” section, a never-ending survey in which you can not only select answers that match your political views and religious beliefs, but also rare treasures such as, “If someone wanted to put a collar on you and command you during sex, would you go for it?” Or, “Say someone asked you to pull out a knife and bleed them whilst in the middle of full-throttle sex, would you do it?” Of course, these are both silly questions that should obviously be answered “No” unless you want a deranged lunatic for a boyfriend and later possibly a husband/cell-mate, but there are others that are less obvious. Questions like, “Would you ever consider an open relationship?” and “Would you date someone who didn’t want to have sex for at least 6 months?” Of course, being me, I have answered no to the first one and yes to the second. But do I really know? Not really. And what’s more is, I’m not so sure I want to know what answers a potential “match” has chosen either. Obviously I am glad there are ways of finding out who might be a psychotic killer on the loose, but other than that, isn’t mystery an essential part of the equation? If I’m going to be with someone, do I really need to know every detail of all their little kinks up front? The whole point of a relationship is that you decide to be with someone and then get to discover all the completely horrific things about them! Of course, the whole idea is to rule out the people who would be completely wrong for you and find the ones who would be… I dunno… nice to be with? But on the whole, given the option between knowing everything and knowing what you usually know when embarking on a relationship (which is, let’s face it, almost nothing), wouldn’t you choose something with a bit more… mystery?

There is something strange that can happen when you get in the habit of meeting people online. Something so odd, and often wonderful, that you will feel like a crazy person for even mentioning it. But then, how could you not?

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine suggested, in a rather forcible tone, that I sign up for an account on OkCupid. (And yes, I can literally hear your groans, laughter and sarcastic comments from here – because they are quite possibly the exact same ones I made when he brought it up!) At first, it really wasn’t much of a diversion. I would visit peoples’ profiles, be mildly amused, maybe send a short message, etc. It seemed that all the cute ones lived in the next city over, and that most of the guys interested in talking to me were just a little bit off. Every once in a while, I would get someone wanting to instant-message and a little message box would pop up in the bottom-left corner of the screen, usually with a pretty lame attempt at conversation. Usually from someone I wasn’t really into.

One such lame attempt appeared as follows:

“Awesome look in that last photo of yours :P”

However, as I’d remembered seeing his profile and not being particularly creeped out by it, I decided to respond. And then, seconds later, he called himself out on the lame attempt and started an actual conversation.

We talked for four hours.

The next day, we talked for five.

The shortest length of time we’ve talked so far has been an hour. And that is only because I told him he was being cut off so I could get some sleep!

The point is, we’re pretty much in love. I kid! But honestly, it’s been a nice week. We talk about whatever we want, laugh about the stupidest things, and flirt uncontrollably. It’s fun, it’s sweet, and it’s absolutely no work whatsoever. It’s not love, but it is infatuation!

But like with all things, when one area of your life is going really well, another part will turn supremely crappy. Unfortunately, both these parts are contained within the same specific area. Because he lives… in another State. and while he likes to say that the distance is the clincher, I’m more of the mind that the distance is the reason it’s even possible in the first place. Because the fact that we can’t meet anytime soon also means that we have nothing to lose. Which means we can be completely honest. Which means we can fall for each other much faster and more readily than we would in real life. And also, none of our flaws are very apparent. Because, you know, there is so much distance.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m completely happy that I met him, even though we would in all likelihood never work out. But doesn’t it just suck that the one person who can make me this happy by a) joking around with me non-stop, b) keeping up with and sometimes even outsmarting my sarcastic/combative side, and c) saying sweet things for no particular reason, has to be so fucking far away?! It’s completely unfair. And yet, it’s perfect. Because it really isn’t real.

I actually posted my assumed name onto facebook… as a part of a quiz, but still.

Now I am utterly terrified (well, more like vaguely concerned) that people will search my assumed name, find this blog, and proceed to throw fruit at me as I walk down the street, just for being so ridiculous.

Of course, the one person I really don’t want reading this blog is far too lazy to put in a search for it anyway. But that is beside the point. Because really, no one I know should be reading this blog at all, even if I have given them permission. Because these are (some of) my inner-most thoughts, and I really am quite ridiculous.

I have been under a lot of stress lately. Stress I have entirely brought upon myself. Stress that has manifested itself in a faint twitch in my left eye that no one can see but me. (You see how this is a metaphor for the way I am able to mask my internal conflicts? Yeah… I love it when life just hands you literary symbols…)

Some of this stress, apparently, has to do with… get this… finding a man. Of all things! I would bury my head in shame, but it would make typing a hell of a lot harder…

I had thought the bulk of my stress had to do with the fact that I might not get into the cosmetology course this summer, which means that I would have to wait an entire year to take it… which means another year of directionless boredom, which it turns out does not suit me very well. Funny. And really, most of my stress probably does have to do with that… but I now know, thanks to a particularly memorable dream, that it also has to do with something else.

Last night I dreamt of Gamer Boy. To the best of my knowledge, this is the first time this has ever happened… probably because I am really not that into him (which you all will know, being uniquely privy to to the sheer bulk of blog posts that someone can be filed under when they really have my interest.) But this dream, for whatever reason, dealt a lot with him. It even went so far as to compare him to The Blog Crush, by way of making GamerBoy Jewish… which clearly he is not. Yes, Blog Crush and GamerBoy are both huge geeks, but as far as I can tell, this is the only similarity the two share… well, that, and their mutual obsession with skirts…

Perhaps my sub-conscious trying to distinguish between who I do and do not have a crush on is really just another coping mechanism, like some deeply rooted Cinderella complex. Who is going to save me from this mess? Who has the means to take me out of my disastrous situation and into a new, happier life? My mind’s temporary fixation on someone I already know is interested may just have been my own way of crossing options off a list. Because really, it would be nice to have someone to lean on right now… but as I, and now my dream psyche, know – I can’t simply use someone who likes me to ease my current afflictions. (Mostly as this would only create new afflictions… guilt being one of them.)

So, rather than fall into the arms of a skirt-obsessed, karaoke-singing geek such as GamerBoy, I am going to do what I do best: revert to completely ridiculous fantasies that would never in a million years happen!

Starting with my next blog post, I will be running through a list of my more grandiose (and fake) plans for the future…

Stick around, there will hypothetical sluttiness involved… because I know how much you all love hypothetical sluttiness! (Okay, so maybe I am just doing it for my own amusement, but still!)

There is a 99.9% chance that I am going to fail my history class. Translation: I AM GOING TO FAIL MY HISTORY CLASS.

This will be, like most things, because I am lazy, easily distracted, just not into it, etc. Usually I drop the class before it gets to this point. Usually, but not this time.

Then there is the fact that the Cosmetology class I had planned on taking this summer is full. Already. The class only just opened three days ago, and now it is closed. Excellent. Oh, did I forget to mention that this class is mandatory for anyone wanting to take any other Cosmetology courses for the next three semesters? Yeah… so basically, if I don’t somehow get into this class before it starts in June, I’m screwed for the rest of the year.

I can’t do school anymore. I hate it. And I fail. So the plan was to do this cosmetology thing, get my license, become a hairstylist, and save up enough money to be able to pursue my other, more interesting, dreams. Only now I don’t know.

If I have to wait a year, maybe I could go be an Au Pair in Italy or something. That would be better than just staying home and waiting it out… working in Touristville and cultivating some new, ridiculous crush… hating my life. But then I would have to look after kids…

As for this blog, yes, it’s become a little shitty. And my reader is filling to the brim, which means I’ve been neglecting my fellow bloggy friends.

So, to sum up: I AM FAILING AT LIFE!

The End.

(Okay, it’s not really the end – I will survive, I will survive!…. hey, hey!

Last night I re-added GamerBoy to my friends on Myspace (it’s possible I de-friended him about year ago for being overly cheeky… my, how times have changed!) And now he wants to, as the kids say, hang out. So immediately (and laughably) I am freaking out. Seriously. You don’t even want to know.

This will be because I hate this part. You know, the part where I feel compelled to obsess over every single little thing I don’t like about him, in an attempt to convince myself that any further contact would be a bad idea? Yah… Wait, I don’t do that. (Yes I do.)

First -It’s his name. I don’t like it. I’m not actually going to tell you what it is (though if we start seeing more of each other I will probably have to think up a good fake name…), but let me just say that it’s, well, not sexy.

Second – It’s the ADD. He’s very jumpy at times, and while that can be cute, I don’t exactly need a guy who’s going to be jumping all over me. I’m finicky, and just a little too tightly-wound… I need someone who can, shall we say, take it slow.

Third – He skateboards. Okay?

Fourth – He’s, like, so California. He even has a tan. And says the word “dude”… a lot. (Yes, okay – I know I do it too, but I am being ironic!)

And fifth – I can just tell he’s not… *sigh*… “The One.”

But he does amuse me. And I do like seeing him.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be this hard.

Maybe we can just hang out. Maybe I can just be clear. Maybe I can have a guy friend… who thinks I’m cute… and nearly has a fit every time I wear a skirt… Damnit. That’s not going to work, is it? Unless I want to be like… a string-thing. (or would the fact that I’d be stringing him along make him the string thing?)

I don’t know. It’s possible I am just bored. And that is no good reason to start dating someone. Unless I really, really want to be a bitch. Which, incidentally, I don’t.